


Strip poker (and other dangers)

by SquaresAreNotCircles



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Fluff and Humor, Hogwarts Express, M/M, Misunderstandings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-03
Updated: 2018-05-03
Packaged: 2019-05-01 10:37:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,210
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14518650
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SquaresAreNotCircles/pseuds/SquaresAreNotCircles
Summary: “Strip poker?” Oliver offered with a suggestive wiggle of his eyebrows, just as the compartment door slid open.“Er,” Percy said.Or: Oliver and his best friend are bored, Percy has incredible timing and everybody keeps their clothes on.





	Strip poker (and other dangers)

**Author's Note:**

> Wesley is an OC from a longer story who's popped up in my ao3 works before, because he's in a lot of my Percy/Oliver fic because that makes sense where I usually post them first (but then kind of doesn't here because I never translated that longer story where he originally appears). If you really hate OC's I'd advise you against reading this, but there's really no prior knowledge needed, except that Wes is a Gryffindor in Percy and Oliver's year and that he's Oliver's best friend (but even that should become clear in the fic without this note, hopefully). 
> 
> Anyway! This is an older work from circa 2015 that I stumbled upon yesterday and decided to translate. Enjoy!
> 
> (Btw, small ranty sidenote: I love the age rating system here, but I'm still unsure every time how to rate fics when it comes down to General vs Teen and especially this time I kept being like ??, because the content of this really feels like a G, but then the title mentions stripping and that doesn't seem like a G-rated topic, so I went for a T anyway, but characters saying the words "strip poker" is literally the only reason for that, so I don't know. Better to be safe than sorry, but this is still essentially G-rated, I think.)

The train ride from King’s Cross to Hogsmeade had a tendency to drag on. There was always a lot to talk about after a summer holiday, but conversations inevitably hit a lull after an hour or three. When Wesley noticed Oliver was gearing up for a fourth recount of his story about the improvised Quidditch game he’d played at the Weasley’s that summer, the time seemed to have come to steer him in a different direction. By now, Wesley knew the words Percy had used to congratulate Oliver on his victory by heart.

“Let’s play a game,” Wesley offered.

“What kind of game?” Oliver asked. He slouched down in his seat far enough to put his feet up next to Wesley, on the other side of their compartment. Wesley considered pushing them off, but decided he was too lazy to put in that much effort.

“I don’t know,” he admitted. “Something.”

“I spy?” Oliver looked around. Unlike Hogwarts itself, the interior of the Express didn’t have much to offer a game like this. “It’s green.”

“Mate, you’re cheating already. There’s nothing green in here.”

“Doesn’t what’s outside count?”

Wesley barely refrained from rolling his eyes. The landscape that flew by the window was about as boring as what was on their side of the glass. “Gosh, is it a tree?”

“How did you know?”

“Occlumency. Maybe we should try something else.”

Oliver didn’t answer, but poked Wesley’s thigh with the point of his shoe. Wesley heroically won out over his laziness to catch Oliver’s ankles and push his feet from the seat. Oliver retaliated by aiming a kick at him, but Wesley withdrew his own feet and got comfortable in his three person space.

“The lack of playing cards and other materials kind of limits our options,” he noted. His eyes found the two empty bottles of pumpkin juice on the tiny table by the window. They’d bought them from the witch with the snack cart earlier for a few sickles. “Spin the bottle? Wait, no.”

He was too late. Oliver was already laughing uproariously. “You could’ve just said something, you know.” Wesley followed Oliver’s example from a moment before and tried to kick him. Oliver was having so much fun he barely seemed to notice, just shifting away until he was out of reach. “I completely understand if you’ve secretly wanted to kiss me all this time. I _am_ Quidditch Captain, after all. If Angelina is to be believed, I’m quite popular.”

Wesley abandoned his efforts towards physical violence and sighed. “Let’s forget this and do something else.”

“Strip poker?” Oliver offered with a suggestive wiggle of his eyebrows, just as the compartment door slid open.

“Er,” Percy said. He shoved the door closed with so much force that it hit the frame and bounced back a bit, leaving it open just a crack. 

For a full five seconds, Wesley and Oliver stared at the door and the sliver of Percy’s shoulder that was visible through the opening. 

Then the door opened again, more slowly than before. Percy was still standing there, head a shade that was a lot closer to one of Gryffindor’s house colours than it usually was. He brought his hand to his glasses as if to adjust them and dropped it without doing anything. “Er,” he repeated. “Am I interrupting?”

Oliver, impossibly even brighter red, shook his head with vigour. “No, not at all. Come in.”

Percy didn’t seem thrilled at the invitation, but he did make use of it. Wesley saw Percy look at his three seats, but he refused to move his feet to make room for Percy to sit. The train shook a little and Percy was forced to sit down next to Oliver or risk ending up sprawled in someone’s lap.

“Well, Oliver,” Wesley said. “Spin the bottle, after all?”

Oliver froze and Percy let out something very close to a whimper. “I really feel like I’m interrupting,” he said, moving to get up. He was stopped by Oliver’s hand on his shoulder, which Oliver retracted immediately when he realised he’d touched Percy.

“Sorry,” he almost yelled.

Wesley couldn’t remember a more frustrating experience in his life. He might still be bent on revenge for the earlier teasing, but he wasn’t completely heartless. “Percy, how was your summer?”

Percy couldn’t seem to sit still in his seat. “Fine, fine. It was all right.”

“Cool. Oliver mentioned he was over at yours for Quidditch. You didn’t play?”

“No, I prefer refereeing. I have a much better view from the ground.”

Wesley managed to force his eyebrows to stay right where they were on his face, but with considerable difficulty. They really wanted to join his hairline. “View? Of?”

“Overview!” Percy corrected, very determinedly not looking in Oliver’s direction. “I meant overview. Over the game.”

“Oh, of course.” Apparently nobody else was willing to attempt awkward small talk, so Wesley saw himself forced to fill the looming silence. He let his brain take a backseat as his mouth did the talking. “But a view can be nice too, don’t you agree? Oliver likes having a view. That’s why he likes the library, especially the third table in that row in between the sections for Astronomy and Herbology.

“That’s where I usually sit,” Percy said, surprised and clueless.

“Oh, is it?”

“Wes,” Oliver squeaked.

Wesley smiled at him. “Yes?”

Oliver didn’t say anything, but his look spoke volumes, of the kind that should probably be kept in the Restricted Section.

There was a brief silence. Then Percy cleared his throat. “I actually came here to convey a message. Oliver, professor Flitwick asked me to let you know professor McGonagall approved your request to reserve the Quidditch pitch for the entire afternoon next Saturday.”

Oliver beamed. “That’s amazing, Percy! Thank you.”

Percy had only just returned to his normal pale self, and now he was bouncing back to a suspicious shade of pink. “You shouldn’t thank me. I barely did anything.”

“Hey Percy,” Wesley said, when it became ever more clear that Oliver’s brain was occupied with freckles and he was never going to notice Wesley’s pointed looks, “you should come watch the try-outs on Saturday.”

“Okay,” Percy agreed easily. “I’ll be there.”

Oliver’s eyes were wide. Wesley realised a moment too late that Oliver might not make his own team if he knew Percy was watching the entire time, but on the other hand, it wasn’t like they could ground their Captain. Any potential Chasers whose Quaffles would reach their target because the Keeper was distracted should be thankful for Wesley’s meddling. Smiles all around.

Except on Percy’s face. He chewed his bottom lip and looked like there was something he needed to get off his chest.

“What’s wrong?” Oliver asked.

Percy frowned a bit. “I don’t think strip poker is allowed according to school regulations.”

Wesley only heard half of Oliver’s stammered answer because he was laughing too hard. He figured it was probably better not to let Percy know quite yet that if Oliver was interested in playing strip poker with anyone in this compartment, it was going to be someone whose name had an A more in it than Wesley’s own. If he was lucky, Percy would find out soon enough.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! <3


End file.
